


A Modern Goddess

by A7XLizardQueen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A7XLizardQueen/pseuds/A7XLizardQueen





	1. Chapter 1

Steve hadn’t meant to forget about her. But after waking up only to find out he’d missed out on 70 years of his life, and the lives of those he loved, he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight. It took a few days before he remembered the other person that had been on the plane with him when he crashed. He wasn’t even sure she’d been alive then, and if she had been, there was no guarantee she’d survived the long freeze.

He had no way of contacting Fury while he was at the Retreat. As soon as an agent showed up to take him back to New York he asked where she was. Of course the agent wouldn’t tell him anything, and Steve refused to go anywhere except to SHIELD to see Fury.

Finally after many threats, and a lot of strong-arming, he found her. She was still asleep, and they had restrained her to a hospital bed. There were three doctors “taking care” of her. Steve was pretty sure they were just studying her. He tried to get into the room to see her but Fury stopped him.

“Let her go, now!” Steve demanded.

“No can do, Cap. That woman is a known assassin, a known Hydra agent. There’s no way in hell we’re letting her go.”

“She was never a Hydra agent. She was a prisoner. Check the records.”

“Be that as it may, she killed people for Hydra, she was also responsible for a number of deaths of high-ranking politicians in Russia, and across Europe, before that.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to study her like a lab rat.”

“You know, she’s even more perfect than you are, Captain. There’s absolutely not a scratch on her. We had to use our biggest and strongest needle just to be able to take her blood.”

“What does that mean?”

“Her skin is denser, her muscles are denser. Do you have any idea how much she weighs?”

“No, and it’s not polite to ask.”

Fury rolled his eyes in disbelief, “What I’m saying is, I don’t think she’s human; at least not entirely.”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to -”

Steve was interrupted by the surprised gasps and screams of the doctors. He and Fury stepped up to the observation window to see the woman had broken free of her restraints. One doctor was lying on the ground, the other two crouched in a corner, begging.

The woman’s mind was screaming. She tried to connect to the Earth, tried to ground herself so that she could stop the pain lacing through her brain. All she could feel was unnatural. Plastic and metals and fiberglass.

She stepped up to the door and yanked on the handle. It was metal, and she was weak, exponentially weaker than she should be, too weak to be able to pull the door from the frame. The woman moved to the mirror next to the door.

The person staring back at her was unfamiliar. Limp, dry hair the colour of mahogany laid over her shoulders and fell against her heaving, naked breasts. Bright green eyes were rimmed with shadows. Full pink lips chapped and cracked.

The woman refocused. She must get to the Earth. Must recharge. She could feel a slight draft coming from around the edges of the mirror. Just as she was about to send her fist flying into the glass the door opened and a tall, muscular, blond man came in, his hands raised in surrender. He was avoiding looking straight at her.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Sylvie. I want to help you. You need to get to some earth, right?”

She nodded her head.

The man slowly extended a hand toward her and she noticed the bundle of cloth. She eyed it warily.

“It’s just clothes. I swear.”

The woman snaked her hand out and grabbed the clothes from Steve’s hand. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone move that fast before. Once she was dressed in the white cotton pants and shirt he stood respectfully out of the way so she could leave the room.

Every movement she made was calculated, Steve noticed, stealthy, paranoid. Her eyes shifted left and right, watching, almost as if she were expecting something to ambush them.

Unfortunately something did. Ten armed men blocked their path in front and from behind. Their guns were already trained on her, fingers ready to pull the trigger. Fury was leading them.

“I told you, she’s not a threat.”

“Sorry if I’m not inclined to believe you, Captain,” Fury responded. “As I said before. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Sylvie, don’t fight,” Steve said quietly, “They can, and will shoot you without hesitation. I will get you out. I promise.”

“Who’s Sylvie?” The woman whispered, throat raspy.

Steve’s brow furrowed. The men began to creep forward, fingers on their triggers. He hoped by keeping eye contact with her it would keep her calm. But Steve saw the moment her need took over. One second the woman’s eyes had been emotionless, the next furious.

The screaming in her mind had ended, flooded by the rage of the power inside her. It took over, survival mode kicked in. She spun around and before Steve could even blink a dozen vines had come out of nowhere, shooting out from the woman and towards the soldiers, either pushing their guns down or sending the soldiers flying down the hall. Some of the men were trigger happy. The sounds of gunfire echoed down the hall. Sylvie never fell. A golden, shimmering force field surrounded her and it held steady as she calmly walked straight down the hall, stepping over unconscious men. 

Fury ordered the men to shoot after her but each shot was stopped by the force field. Steve shouted and ran after her, begging Sylvie to stop whatever it was she was doing, but there was no recognition in her eyes, she remained focused ahead. He wasn’t sure how she knew where to go but eventually the woman found her way to the main entrance. Steve followed her out into the busy New York street. 

Her power was beginning to fade. The amount of energy it took to keep up the force field was immense. As soon as she left the building it was as if she’d hit a wall. The chaos of the traffic assaulted her ears, the stench of decay and pollution stung her nostrils, and the hum of electricity pierced her skull. It was too much and the force field collapsed as she fell to the ground. Her lungs constricted and her throat tightened, lights flashed before her eyes, blinding her. 

“Earth, now,” she managed to hiss. 

Steve lifted her into his arms without hesitation, surprised for only a moment at the amount of weight in his arms. He had no trouble carrying her, but she weighed more than he did, of that he was sure. Fury and the soldiers had come running out of the building behind her, surrounding the both of them, guns once again pointed in Sylvie’s direction. Steve looked straight at Fury. 

“I’m taking her to Central Park. If you wanna stop me, you’ll have to shoot me.”

There were a few moments of standoff, Fury not wanting to relent, Steve stubbornly refusing to stand down. The woman had passed out in his arms, he didn’t know if she would die or not, didn’t know much about her at all really, but there was no way he was going to leave her to Fury and his scientists. Finally Fury nodded and Steve was allowed to pass. 

It was only a few blocks to Central Park but Steve picked up his pace, getting them there quickly. He chose a spot with as many trees as he could find and deposited Sylvie on the ground. The instant reaction was amazing, not from her, but from the world around her. As soon as Steve had placed Sylvie on the ground the grass had sprung up around her, whipping frantically against her skin in an almost concerned fashion. The trees in the immediate vicinity bent down towards her and squirrels and birds hovered in the branches, watching. 

The woman gasped, filling her lungs with the slightly cleaner air, her fingers grasped the earth beneath her and the grass began to twist itself in amongst her hair. Her eyes remained closed. Her breathing became steady, like that of sleep, and Steve watched as her skin slowly began to pinken with signs of life. The bags beneath her eyes disappeared, and her hair shone with luster. Steve realized belatedly that the grass was combing itself through the long silky strands. And then suddenly the woman’s eyes opened and Steve was staring into a vibrant swirling green.

She woke abruptly, her body stiff from disuse yet regaining strength from the ground beneath her. The first thing she saw was a man. A massive, blond man who was looking at her with concern in his light blue eyes. He held a hand up, showing her he meant no harm. 

“Sylvie? Are you okay?”

It took her a moment to recognize that he spoke English and she hummed softly, exercising her vocal cords. 

“Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember me? I’m Steve Rogers.”

The woman shook her head and then diverted her attention to her surroundings. She took a deep, rejuvenating breath, gathering what information she could from the world around her. She needed to learn all she could. 

Her hand caressed the earth beneath her lovingly, “Hello, old friend.”

The woman’s eyes closed as she began to cut off her senses. Instead she looked into the Earth, asking it to tell her of this land. What she learned caused her pain. The Earth told her of the treatment it had endured, the mining and the deforestation, the pollution gripping parts of the world, choking the life that lived there. She learned of the industrial farming, the treatment of the animals that she loved so dearly, some of which no longer existed. She didn’t realize she’d been crying until Steve shook her by the shoulders, returning her focus to him. 

“Sylvie, are you all right?”

The woman took a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure. She shook her head in confusion.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because that’s your name. You may not remember, but we have met before. You’re telling me you don’t even know your name?”

“The only thing I know is that I belong to this Earth. We are one, and we are in pain. This world is sick. The people are destroying it.”

“Look, S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to come for you. They want to lock you up.”

The woman smirked, “They can try.”

“You can’t fight them. If you do they’ll only think worse of you.”

“And what do you think of me, Steve?”

Steve shook his head in bewilderment, “I don’t really know you that well. But my best friend believed you were good, and I told him I would protect you.”

The woman chuckled, “You protect me? I don’t need protection.”

Fury finally caught up to them, his men surrounding Steve and the woman, guns raised. Steve held his hands out in surrender. 

“Don’t shoot. She’s not going to hurt anyone. Fury, she doesn’t know who she is.”

“I don’t care. She still committed crimes, murder, she has to be taken in. Maybe we can help her remember.”

“I refuse to go back to that vile place that reeks of filth. It’s unnatural. You may question me all you want, as long as I remain somewhere where I may commune with the Earth.”

Fury stared the woman down for a moment, meeting unyielding green eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Okay. But Cap goes with you. He will help you remember, and make sure you stay where you belong.”

“Careful Mr. Fury. I am no prisoner.”

-X-X-X-

They were taken to a place called the Retreat; a small wooden cabin enforced with Vibranium alloy. It was smart, the woman thought. They were still near to the city they called New York, but the place was a natural haven, and the cabin impenetrable, possibly even by her. The woman noted Steve's familiarity with the place.

"You were here recently," she stated.

Steve nodded and pointed to the ground, "The Earth tell you that?"

She smirked, "No. Just an observation. I can discern things for myself."

"And you don't remember anything?"

"No."

"Hitler? Nazis? 1945? Schmidt? Hydra?" He rattled off anything that might jog her memory.

The woman shrugged her shoulders, "If I remembered I would tell you. Now, I’m going for a swim. Would you like to join me?”

Steve sighed and shook his head.

"Suit yourself," she smiled, shimmying her pants down her legs.

Steve caught sight of the smooth, golden skin and gasped. He rushed forward to pick her pants up off the ground, pressing them to her chest.

"What are you doing?" He exclaimed.

"I'm going swimming. Do you expect me to get my clothes wet?"

"Yeah, but, we could see if, I'm sure there's a, there's a bathing suit, or something," he stuttered.

"You’re cute, Steve," the woman smiled, pulling her shirt up over her head, "We are all creatures of the Earth."

Steve's face blushed crimson and he had to force himself to not watch her stride toward the lake in her nakedness.

"People don't just walk around naked, Sylvie."

She splashed in to the water, laughing, "Perhaps they should. There would probably be less war."

-X-X-X-

Steve couldn’t help but watch as Sylvie dove and spun through the water. She swam just as well as the fish, and laughed when they nipped at her toes. She was hands-down the strangest person he’d ever met. All the animals in the vicinity were drawn to her, begging for her attention and affection, bringing her gifts, or showing off their varied skills. He’d never seen so many animals at once.

The woman was in heaven. This was exactly where she needed to be, exactly where she wanted to be, and where she wished she could stay. But she knew she couldn’t. The angry, one-eyed man would come for her soon, ask her everything she knew about a time she couldn’t remember. She could leave, it wouldn’t be hard to overpower Steve and disappear into the woods, never to be seen again. But then she wouldn’t be able to try to help the Earth, try to make the people see the error of their ways.

So she stayed, and swam. When she was done swimming she climbed on to the shore to soak up the sun, allowing the grass and shrubs to caress her skin, allowing the Earth to continue to strengthen her. Hopefully it would give her some clue, or boost her memory. Eventually she slept.

-X-X-X-

_Everything ached. Her nerves vibrated as if an electrical current had been passed through her body. Her eyes were heavy, too heavy to open. She vaguely caught the scent of burnt hair and flesh. Her heart was dangerously slow. It called out to the Earth, and the Earth to her but she was too far away. She must be in the air; the sound of rushing wind, a motor rumbling the only possible confirmation._

_A muffled voice, as if someone was speaking on the other side of a wall. She strained to hear, strained to talk, maybe she could alert them to her presence. She tried to move and discovered the restraints; multiple, around her ankles, waist, chest, arms, and head. Perhaps she wanted to avoid detection, then._

_The voice grew a little louder._

_“Peggy.”_

_A man’s voice. Then a clear change in altitude. A crash, screeching metal against rock, maybe ice. Cold. So cold. It was cold for a long time before she fell unconscious again.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

The woman had the cold, dark dream a few more times before she decided to ask Steve about it. She was sure it was his voice in the dream, sure that they had been on a plane, and she was sure that it had crashed somewhere very cold. She approached him as he sat by the lake, picking at the grass and staring out at the water. He did that a lot.

He smiled lightly at her when she sat by his side. He was very good at putting on a happy face, she noted, masking his sadness.

“Steve, does the name Peggy ring any bells?” She asked, watching Steve’s face shift from his mask of ease to one of deep regret.

“How -” Steve shook his head in confusion, she could practically see the wheels spinning in his head, “There’s no way you could know that name.”

“I keep hearing it in a dream.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, “There’s absolutely no way for you to know that name!”

Suddenly his jaw dropped as he remembered the last time he spoke that name. The woman waited for him to catch on. It didn’t take long, Steve was a smart man.

“There’s no way you could know that name unless you were awake when -”

His voice gave out on a gasp. Tears pooled in his eyes. Steve swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn't even sure you were alive. I didn't have time to check. I thought it was just me.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but -”

The anguish was clear on his face. She barely knew this man, had no idea how well they knew each other  _before_ , and yet she could read him like a book. She placed her hand on his arm.

“Steve, there was nothing you could have done.”

Steve shook his head, looked down at the ground, his jaw clenched in a hard line. His voice broke.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to live. Everyone I ever knew is gone. And now I’ve put you in the same position.”

The woman grabbed Steve’s hand and linked their fingers, “It’ll be all right, Steve. One day at a time.”

He smiled lightly, wiping at his eyes bashfully, “I’m sorry. This must be so much harder for you, not remembering anything, and yet here I am, blubbering.”

“Actually, maybe it’s easier. Fury seems to think I’m dangerous. Maybe I don’t want to know who I was. Maybe who I was wasn’t a very good person.”

“No, don’t think that. You were a good person, being used by bad men. You saved my best friend’s life, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“I saved his life?”

Steve nodded, “You did. He told me about you, after.”

“And?”

“He said you were the strangest person he’d ever met.”

The woman nodded solemnly, “That’s very encouraging, Steve, thanks.”

“He also said you were the most beautiful, kind woman he’d ever met. And that you were incredibly sad. Every time we took down another Hydra base, he hoped you’d be there. He wanted to save you. I’ve never seen him talk about a woman like that before, and he talked about a lot of women.”

“You talk about him like he’s still here.”

Steve sighed, “I guess I’m having a hard time believing he’s really gone. For everyone else it’s been 66 years. For me it’s only been a few weeks since -”

“I’m sorry he’s gone.”

“Me, too.”

“What was his name?”

“Bucky.”

A flash of blue eyes.

_“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”_

-X-X-X-

_The new prisoner with the piercing blue eyes was different. He watched everything, made sure none of the others were slacking, helping them to avoid punishment; he watched when the guards changed and which were weaker. And he watched her. He was good at hiding his observation. None of the other guards would have noticed. But she was trained to notice everything; she missed nothing._

_She didn’t miss the approach of Colonel Lohmer, either. His steps were heavy and hurried, the stench of his cologne preceding him. The back of her neck tingled, she fought the urge to shiver in disgust, and a moment later Colonel Lohmer’s chest was pressed against her back. There was only one thing he wanted from her, he did not value her in any other way. If not for Schmidt, she’d have been disposed of long ago._

_“Follow me.”_

_With a sigh and one final glance to make sure the prisoners were in line, she followed after the colonel. With each step she took she numbed herself, until when she finally reached the colonel, she barely felt it when he roughly pushed her against the hard, rock wall. It scratched her cheek, leaving deep gouges in her skin and drawing blood. It didn’t matter, by the end of the day she’d be healed, no evidence of Lohmer’s abuse remaining._

_She closed her eyes and drifted off, ignoring his sweaty hand pressing her head further into the wall, ignoring the burning as his assault began, ignoring the roiling in her stomach that threatened to erupt._

_“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”_

_The sudden appearance of a strange voice woke her up faster than any pain or torture could. The grip on her head loosened and then the presence at her back was gone. She collapsed to the ground in a heap and whirled around to see Lohmer laid out, unconscious. She crawled over to him in a rush._

_“No, what have you done?”_

_The blue-eyed prisoner eyed her with confusion, “I helped you.”_

_“I can take care of myself,” she snarled, turning her angered gaze on him._

_“That’s not what I saw.”_

_“He’ll kill you when he wakes up.”_

_Lohmer didn’t retaliate immediately. He couldn’t just attack a prisoner without reason. To attack Blue Eyes he would have to admit that a prisoner caught him unawares and got the better of him. He waited until Blue Eyes was being fed with the other prisoners and then accused him of stealing food. When Blue Eyes argued it gave him more than enough reason to beat him within an inch of his life._

_Feeling elated by his victory over the blue-eyed prisoner, and with the knowledge that he would remain uninterrupted, his abuse of her was even worse. He was a man who gained pleasure from the pain of others, and Schmidt gave him permission to use and abuse her for hours, until every inch of her hurt both inside and out._

-X-X-X-

“Sylvie!”

The woman woke with a gasp, heart pounding in her chest and in her ears. Steve was hovering above her, brows knotted in worry.

“Are you okay? You were crying.”

The pain of her dream still lingered on her skin, she could smell the cologne and musk of the man who hurt her and suddenly her mouth flooded with saliva and her throat burned. A moment later she was hunched over, contents of her stomach soaking into the ground below. Steve’s hand landed on her back to rub soothingly, but instead caused her to spasm in revulsion.

“Don’t touch me!”

Tears flooded her vision, pouring down her cheeks. In the dream she’d been able to separate herself from the pain, but now that she was awake, most likely remembering a terrible moment in her past, she couldn’t stop the feelings of pain, and fear, and desperation that now came to the surface.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispered, “You’re safe, now.”

Suddenly needing to feel reassurance, needing to chase away the sting left in her skin, the woman launched herself at Steve, burying her face in his neck.

“I don’t want to remember, Steve.”

“Ssh, it’s gonna be okay. Like you said, one day at a time.”

-X-X-X-

_Blue Eyes looked like hell frozen over. His eyes were so swollen she could barely tell they were blue anymore. Half his face was covered in one giant purple bruise, his bottom lip split open. Underneath his army greens, his torso was blackened, as well. The other prisoners in his cell moved to the other end to give them some semblance of privacy._

_She passed a hard loaf of bread through the bars. Blue Eyes gasped slightly when he saw her, as much as he could before his ribs screamed in protest._

_“You’re okay,” the words spilled from his throat in a quiet rasp._

_“I told you I would be.”_

_“The guys said you looked like death yesterday.”_

_“Yeah, well, I’m not like you.”_

_“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what would happen to you after. I just saw red when -”_

_“It’s okay. I’ve had worse.”_

_Blue Eyes frowned as well as he could, “Who are you?”_

_“I’m no one. I lost my identity long ago.”_

_“Yeah, but you had a name, right?”_

_“I did.”_

_Blue Eyes somehow stared back intently, waiting for an answer, for a name._

_“Schmidt calls me his goddess.”_

_“I don’t care what He calls you. I wanna know what your mother called you.”_

_“I don’t have a mother.”_

_“Everyone has a mother.”_

_“I don’t. Not anymore.”_

_A clatter echoed from down the hall. The guards were coming to check on the prisoners._

_“I have to go.”_

_Blue Eyes’ hand shot out much faster than she thought possible, holding her in place against the bars._

_“My name is Bucky.”_

-X-X-X-

_Against her better judgement, she returned to Bucky’s cell almost every night, sneaking him extra meat, or a loaf of bread, sometimes a hunk of cheese. She couldn’t help herself. Something about him attracted her to him like a moth to a flame. He was cute, and charming. She let her guard down just a little when she was around him._

_“Please tell me your name,” he begged._

_She shook her head. It didn’t matter what her name was. No one had called her by her birth name in a long time. Her identity was stripped from her, she was a spy, an assassin, a weapon, she was taught to blend in, to become what was needed to survive._

_“I told you, I don’t have a name anymore.”_

_“And I think you’re full of shit. Do you remember your mother?”_

_She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to try to beat away the memories she had of a beautiful woman smiling at her, a bell-like singing voice, a tinkling laugh, reassuring arms. A tear slid down her cheek._

_“Sylvie,” she whispered, breathing shakily, “She called me Sylvie.”_

-X-X-X-

_“Come with me, Fraulein.”_

_A shiver of trepidation climbed up Sylvie’s spine. She hadn’t had to go to Zola’s lab in a long time. She didn’t miss the experiments, and really didn’t want them to start again. Sylvie hoped they’d finally gotten tired of trying to use her to perfect their Super Soldier Serum, clearly it hadn’t worked, and wouldn’t ever._

_Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Schmidt standing outside, hands held behind his back. He’d never been there before to watch Zola experiment on her._

_“You’ve been hiding something from me, my little goddess,” Schmidt greeted calmly._

_Sylvie smiled innocently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_Dread was already seeping its way into her bones. If Schmidt knew that she’d helped the prisoners cover up their murder of Colonel Lohmer then she’d never be let go. He would torture her with electrocution and starve her and stick her in the cells for weeks. Sylvie pressed herself against Schmidt’s front, splaying her hands out on his chest, hoping that his desire for her would help lessen her punishment._

_“I have allowed you too much freedom,” Schmidt sneered, “And you betrayed me for him.”_

_Schmidt’s hand grasped the back of her neck suddenly, turning Sylvie to march her into Zola’s lab. A pair of angry, frightened, and beautiful blue eyes stared back at her desperately. Bucky was strapped to the table by the ankles and chest._

_“Don’t touch her!” Bucky shouted._

_“You see what you have done?” Schmidt whispered in her ear. “You brought this on him. Because you preferred this weak American to me.”_

_“Please, Johann, do not hurt him. Do whatever you want to me.”_

_“Don’t worry, my dear, I will. But first, you will watch. I can only hope that Zola has finally perfected his serum.”_

_Sylvie’s stomach sunk at Zola’s answering smirk. Bucky’s eyes widened as Zola approached him, carrying a dramatically over-large needle and syringe. He struggled against the bindings._

_“Get the hell away from me!”_

_“Bucky!” Sylvie cried, bringing his attention to her, “Just look at me. It’ll be all right.”_

_Schmidt’s hold on her neck tightened, causing Sylvie to collapse to her knees. Tears fell freely down her cheeks as she watched the needle pierce Bucky’s skin, watched as Zola pressed the plunger down, watched as Bucky screamed as the serum spread through his veins, as the searing pain engulfed his entire body. Sylvie knew exactly what it felt like, had endured it countless times herself._

_The hold on her neck released and Sylvie fell forward, crying against the concrete floor. The longer Bucky screamed, the angrier she got, though, until hot rage permeated every inch of her body. She felt the intensity of her powers within her spark. Her eyes flared gold and then a ripple of energy burst from her, sending both Zola and Schmidt across the room, knocking Zola unconscious. Schmidt’s mask tore, showing him for what he truly was. The grotesque red jaw smirked at her with an admiring fascination._

_“You are truly a Goddess,” Schmidt placated._

_“And you’re a monster,” Sylvie snarled, “Trying to be something you will never be worthy of becoming.”_

_Schmidt laughed maniacally, “I don’t need to become a God, when I can control one.”_

_Sylvie was about to hit him again when he pressed the button from the depths of his jacket which activated the electrical wiring in her suit. Pain laced her every nerve, the sound of her own scream mingled with Bucky’s shouts the last thing she heard before her vision went black._

-X-X-X-

Sylvie woke still twitching, her skin burning as if she’d truly been electrocuted. Steve was running towards her from the cabin. Her hands shook as she brought them to her face to wipe away the sweat and tears. Clawing at her shirt, Sylvie fought to free herself from the trappings of the synthetic material.

“Too hot,” she panted, “Can’t breathe.”

Steve’s arms encircled her. Sylvie pushed him away, crawling to the lake. She needed to cool herself down. She could still feel the stinging pain, hear Bucky’s agonized cries in her head.

“’M sorry, Bucky,” she whimpered. “So sorry.”

The cold water immediately soothed her aching skin and heart. The screaming in her mind ceased, thrusting Sylvie in to a bubble of silence. The knowledge of Bucky’s torture weighed heavily on her conscience.

Steve waded in to the water after her, wrapping his warm arms around her shivering form. She pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent that had now become a comforting balm for her over the last week.

“It was all my fault,” she muttered, “They hurt him because of me.”

“No,” Steve argued, squeezing her against him.

Angered, Sylvie pushed away from him, “Yes they did! They hurt him. Because I liked him. He didn’t look at me like I was a freak. He didn’t want to possess me.”

His large hands engulfed her face, and Steve spoke sternly, “It was not your fault.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

“We have to keep trying,” Steve urged.

Sylvie gulped down a glass of water, catching her breath and allowing the rhythm of her heartbeat to steady. She shook her head.

“Fury wants you back in the city in a matter of days, and right now you can’t even stand to be in the cabin with the television on.”

“I don’t want to go back to the city,” she pouted. “It stinks. I want to stay here with you.”

“I’ll be coming with you,” he reassured.

“What’ll they do with me? I don’t really have anything to tell them.”

“Then you tell them what you remember. You know you weren’t working for them of your own free will, that much is certain.”

Sylvie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, “I can’t go back to being a prisoner, Steve. I don’t think I could survive it again.”

“I won’t let that happen,” his arms engulfed her, “I promise.”

“Please, I need a break. I’ll practise other abilities, it’ll help me keep my head.”

His agreement rumbled in his chest. They separated and Sylvie took up her usual perch on a warm rock by the water. Immediately, a fish jumped up in greeting and an otter climbed up to curl into the crook made by Sylvie’s folded legs. She patted the otter’s head and scratched his neck.

“What’s it like?” Steve asked, seating himself next to her, “Talking to animals? Do you hear words?”

She chuckled, “No. Animals don’t have a language, exactly. It’s more like feelings. I don’t know how to explain it, I just know in my head and my heart what they’re feeling. Sometimes I get images.”

“That’s incredible.”

One delicate shoulder lifted, and not for the first time did Steve wonder at how someone so small, so feminine and graceful, could be stronger than him.

“These animals, the plants, they’re like my family. I don’t think my real family wanted me. I was too strange for them, I guess.”

Steve placed a hand on her knee, “Do you remember them?”

Her chest lifted with a deep breath and her eyes looked far away, “Not for certain. Sometimes, I think I hear a voice, or I remember an embrace, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. I’m not sure if it’s my parents, or not. Maybe it’s just a dream.”

“I don’t see how they couldn’t have loved you.”

Blue eyes met green and a look was shared between them, of mutual understanding and respect, “Thank you, Steve.”

After a minute Steve cleared his throat awkwardly and clapped his hands together, “All right, let’s see what you can do.”

Sylvie smirked, “Well, I could call every single animal within a hundred yards to my side, but I think that might cause some problems.”

“How so?”

“That includes the predators, Steve; foxes, bears, cougars. I don’t think my gentle friends here would appreciate that.”

“Would they still hunt with you here?”

“Of course!” She exclaimed, “Besides, I would never force an animal to act against their nature. I respect them just as much as they respect me. If I asked, they would refrain from killing, however it would not be fair of me to deny them.”

Steve smirked, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re amazing. You’ve always been able to do this?”

A slender shoulder rose up, “I think so.”

“What else can you do?”

Sylvie closed her eyes and shook out her arms, releasing any tension in her back. She reached down to the ground with her mind, connecting herself to the roots of every plant around her. Steve’s astonished chuckle barely registered in her mind as every tree, every blade of grass, every flower grew taller, blossomed, and deepened in colour. A pleasurable sigh escaped her throat. Sylvie’s face practically glowed, cheeks pink; she laid out on the warm rock, stretching her limbs and basking in the health and the plentiness of her surroundings. When she opened her eyes, Steve’s face was turned away, cheeks and neck a glaring red.

Her giggle had Steve’s eyes returning to her, albeit reluctantly. “Kinda feel like I was intruding, there.”

“You need to loosen up, Stevie.”

His throat felt tight as he forced himself to ask, “Do you feel good, doing that?”

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, her chest rose and fell with a deep cleansing breath. The small chuckle and baring of pearly, white teeth were all the answer Steve needed, but still Sylvie spoke.

“It’s like coming home. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. When I’m surrounded by an abundance of nature, especially when it’s an abundance I caused, it just feels right. As if every single piece of me is perfectly content. I imagine it’s similar to being embraced by a lover, although I can’t really know that for sure, I suppose.”

“I’m sure you’ll know one day.”

-X-X-X-

_This hadn’t been part of the plan, she thought, as she followed the man into his home. She was supposed to seduce him, yes, but she was supposed to leave him back at the dinner party, where he would be found, where there were ample suspects. She wasn’t supposed to like the way his blond hair curled over his forehead. She wasn’t supposed to like the way his grey eyes looked at her, as if she were the only person in the room. She wasn’t supposed to like the deep rumble of his voice, or the dazzling smile as full, pink lips stretched across his strong jaw._

_The agent hadn’t been prepared for this target. Most of the men she was sent to seduce and/or kill were old, ugly, and fat. This one was kind, and beautiful. She wondered what he had done to warrant the taking of his life. They had said it was a matter of national security._

_“Drink?” He asks, removing his jacket._

_She swallows, trying to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat, and nods. He smiles lightly at her, handing her a glass of chilled vodka._

_“Don’t be nervous.”_

_He thinks she’s a virgin, she realizes. Of course he would, what respectable, young, unmarried woman wouldn’t be? She wishes it were true, and drinks the vodka in one swallow. A quirk of the brow, a lifting at the corner of his lips, and he takes her hands in his, much larger, much warmer, leaving her glass on the sideboard._

_Strong arms pull her against an able chest, and hot lips descend upon her own, and fire sparks in the depths of her belly._

Sylvie woke with a gasp, phantom fingers seeking her out in the darkness. Her lips tingled and a deep ache had settled itself in her loins. So, not everything in her past had been bad. Sitting up, Sylvie watched the moon’s reflection ripple on the water. She couldn’t have been much older than seventeen, if that. Much too young to be thinking of seducing and killing diplomats.

She desperately clung to the hazy image in her mind, trying to recall every detail of the man’s face, from the sharpness of his cheekbones and the dimple in his chin, to the delicate arch of his brow and the bow of his lips. She wondered who he was, what his name was, what had happened to him, and another shaky image appeared in her mind, of her own hands painted red in blood.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had glimpses of death. The cryptic images of blood and suffering never came with any context either. Sylvie had no clue if she was causing the death, or simply seeing it, although the former seemed to be the more likely scenario.

Sylvie’s neck tingled with the sensation of being observed. The observer wasn’t a mystery however, and a moment later a light chuff and exhale announced the arrival of a female bobcat.

“Hello, little miss,” Sylvie whispered, reaching a hand out tentatively.

Bobcats were generally shy and did not often approach humans. Sylvie understood that despite who she was, the cat would still be wary of coming out into the open. A moment of hesitation and then Sylvie’s fingers received a light, affectionate head butt. She listened to the low rumbling purr as the cat pawed the soft bed of moss next to her and curled up against her side. Sylvie laid a hand gently on the cat’s scruff and allowed the sound to lull her back to sleep.

Sylvie still had the image of grey eyes and blond hair in her mind when Steve woke her the next morning by throwing pebbles at her face. She lifted her head to glare at him. Steve’s answer was sheepish and apologetic.

“Sorry, didn’t want to get too close,” he gestured to her side.

The bobcat was still curled against her side. That was probably the most peaceful sleep the cat had ever gotten. Sylvie smiled and kissed the cat’s head. She raised her head to glance around her and then after an answering coo that Sylvie took to mean ‘thank you’, the cat darted off back into the trees, seamlessly blending in to the shadows.

“Am I gonna find you sleeping with apex predators every morning?”

“It’s highly possible.”

Steve and Sylvie spent the next few days trying to grow Sylvie’s tolerance to electricity. She wasn’t sure where this aversion came from, or whether it was tied to her powers, but if she didn’t fight through it, she’d never be able to join the world, never be able to start her work on convincing the people to treat their home better. Besides, it gave her a distraction, and more often than not she passed out from exhaustion at the end of the day, sleep unhampered by dreams or memories.

“So, what’ll you do when we get back to the city?” Sylvie asked Steve the night before they were due to leave the Retreat.

Steve sighed heavily, “I dunno. Go back to work, I guess. I’m sure Fury’ll have something for to do. Bad people still exist, right?”

“There is still much conflict on the planet. I can feel it.”

“What’ll you do?”

“I suppose that depends on if Fury locks me up, or not.”

Steve shook his head, “That’s not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that, Steve. You can’t know that.”

“I won’t let them lock you up, I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. They aren’t capable of holding me, anyway. And I won’t allow them to. I have work to do. The Earth is sick, the people are slowly choking the life out of it. I have to do something. I have to try to stop it.”

“How?”

Sylvie laughed, the sound harsh and grating to Steve’s ears, “I have no idea. I’m not strong enough to fix it myself.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“We?”

Steve smiled lightly, taking Sylvie’s hand in his, “We’re in this together, now.”

“’Til the end of the line?”

The smile fell from Steve’s face, his skin blanched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Bucky and I used to say that to each other.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t even know where that came from.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

-X-X-X-

Fury’s disbelieving one-eyed glare pissed Sylvie off. She had told him every single thing she could remember. He didn’t care. He’d already made his mind up about her. He slid a beige folder towards her.

“Maybe this’ll jog your memory.”

Sylvie looked down at the folder. There was nothing written on it, nothing to indicate what may be inside. And yet, Sylvie knew, she did not want to open the folder. She did not want to know what Fury thought she was responsible for.

“Go on.”

The first page was an image of an old birth certificate. May 1, 1919. 12:17. Sylvie Colette Brisbois. 2.83 kilograms. 53 centimetres long. Parents: Ariane and Vincent Brisbois.

“Great, now I have names to add to the nothingness in my brain,” Sylvie muttered.

“Keep reading.”

Sylvie swallowed the lump in her throat, and turned the pages. Pictures, old pictures, of dead bodies. All old, white men, usually fat, with grey hair. Except one. The man from her dreams, with hair the colour of wheat, thick and soft on his head, thinner and wiry smattered on his arms, chest, and legs. Sylvie closed her eyes, shivering at the feel of a warm finger tracing up her arm.

“I didn’t kill him,” she whispered, lips trembling.

“Oh, sure, like you didn’t kill any of the other ones?”

“I didn’t kill him,” she repeated, stronger.

“Did he beg for his life? Did you look him in the eyes before yo -”

“I didn’t kill him!” Sylvie screamed, eyes flashing green for a second. She didn’t touch the folder, but it went sliding back across the table.

Sylvie had to give Fury some credit, he didn’t flinch. Just stared back at her. He looked away for a moment, to grab a different picture from the folder and threw that down in front of her. The man in the picture was unrecognizable. Not because Sylvie simply couldn’t remember, but because his head had been rendered into a pile of shattered bone, skin, hair, and brain, a coagulated puddle of blood beneath.

“Remember him?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Sylvie shook her head.

“Dear old _daddy_ must have really done something to piss his baby girl off. Woo, you sure did a number on him.”

“I don’t remember,” her voice was weak, spoken through clenched teeth.

“How very convenient for you,” Fury stood, grabbing the folder from the table, “Well, since your time with Steve hasn’t brought anything back, maybe some time alone will help.”

“You cannot hold me, Fury.”

Sylvie allowed the guards to surround her, allowed them to point their weapons at her, useless as they were, allowed them to escort her to a small room, made of concrete with a steel door. She sat on the small cot, and waited for them to leave. They were idiots, she thought, putting her underground, and in an outer cell. It was no trouble for her, at all, to reach out to the earth on the other side of the concrete wall. Her weeks spent with Steve at the Retreat had energized her beyond anything she could have hoped for. She called to the roots that lived there, and waited. Concrete was weak against the strength of nature. Everything weakened against the strength of nature, eventually.

When Fury returned later all he found was a hole in the wall of his concrete fortress.

“Mother fu -”

-X-X-X-

Steve Rogers strolled down the sidewalk of a new New York. Everything was strangely similar, and yet terribly different. They’d asked if he wanted an apartment in Brooklyn, and he should have said yes, Brooklyn was his home, after all. And yet, when they’d asked him, he couldn’t actually make himself say the word. He wasn’t sure if he could go back to Brooklyn, yet; the place that he’d been born, the place he’d met Bucky, the place he’d gotten beat up so many times he’d lost count, the place where he’d been reborn. He couldn’t go back there, not without Buck.

He walked passed a “vintage” clothing store, didn’t feel vintage to Steve though, when he noticed something odd in the window’s reflection. The flowers poking up in the raised bed in the middle of the street were waving. Steve shook his head, sure that he was seeing things, but no, the flowers were waving their leaves at him.

“Sylvie?” Steve whispered, and then blushed in embarrassment. He’s going crazy, he thought, talking to flowers. If only Bucky could see him now.

He shook his head and then Steve continued walking. The next time he came upon a flower bed, the flowers grew almost a foot, their colouring brightened, and their leaves shined. This time Steve knelt down next to it, pretending to tie his shoe. He looked up at the flowers and the one in front pointed, Steve was sure of it, pointed further up the street, where an abandoned building sat, boarded up.

He approached it warily, and found a break in the door, just enough for someone smaller than him to squeeze through. Steve broke a bit more of the board off, allowing enough room for him to get through. It was dark inside, and damp.

Steve found Sylvie almost at the back of the warehouse, where the roof had caved in, sunlight streaming down. Where the sun touched the concrete was cracked, and nature had begun to retake its territory. Sylvie had clearly helped the process along. A great oak tree had sprung up from the ground, pushing great heaps of concrete out of the way. Grass had already surrounded it and a small garden had begun to sprout.

How long had Sylvie been there, Steve thought. It had only been a few hours since she’d been dropped off at SHIELD. Steve had tried to get in, too, but when he’d been refused Sylvie had told him to leave.

Sylvie laid out on the grass, sunshine beaming down on her. Her skin glowed beneath the light. No wonder Buck fell for her, she really was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. Besides, Peg, of course. Peggy would have liked Sylvie, Steve thought, and then had to stop himself, because thinking about Peggy hurt too much.

“So, Fury tried to lock you up,” Steve dug his hands into his pockets.

Those green eyes turned on Steve and Sylvie’s pink lips lifted into a satisfied grin. She chuckled, the sound low and throaty and it hit Steve right in the dick. Her eyes flashed with mischief.

“I told you they couldn’t hold me.”

Steve couldn’t help but return the smirk, “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’re gonna win Fury’s trust by running off.”

“I don’t think Fury trusts anyone.”

“So how’d you do it?”

“Now, Steven, you don’t think I’d go around telling all my secrets, do you?”

Her smile was so sinful, so sexy, and Steve wondered whether Bucky had ever kissed those plump lips, had ever even had his hands on her. Before he even realized what he was doing he was grabbing for her, lowering his mouth to hers. Her lips were warm and soft. She was reaching for him, pulling him down to her.

“Steve?”

Steve blinked, and found himself still sitting up, Sylvie was still lying out on the grass before him, running her fingers through the blades as if petting a dog. She was looking at him oddly. He cleared his throat, “Pardon?”

“I asked if you’d seen your new apartment yet.”

“Oh!” Steve blushed, shaking away the image of Sylvie splayed out beneath him. “Yeah. It just didn’t feel right. Needed to get out of there for a while.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here as much as you’d like.”

“You’re not gonna go back to Fury?”

“What, and have him throw me in another cell? I don’t think so. I told you, Steve, I won’t be a prisoner.”

“Okay. I’m going to talk to Fury, then. See if we can’t get you someplace to actually live. It’s October, Sylvie. You can’t stay here all winter. I won’t tell him where you are.”

“I don’t trust him, Steve.”

“Do you trust me?”

Sylvie sighed audibly, and then nodded.

-X-X-X-

They stuck Sylvie in the apartment beside Steve, for lack of a better option, and so that Steve could keep an eye on her. As if Steve could ever keep up to her, she thought. But she moved in, anyway. She understood that she needed to be civil, needed to cooperate, if she was ever going to be able to help. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent showed her into the apartment, along with Steve. He wouldn’t leave her alone with S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore.

The apartment was bare, sparsely furnished, but clean and roomy. It was also completely devoid of life, Sylvie noted, with disdain. She’d never be able to live there unless she got some greenery.

“Would it be possible to get some pots and dirt?” Sylvie asked the agent.

“How many bags?”

“Bags?”

“Dirt, potting soil, comes in big plastic bags,” the agent held out his hands to demonstrate how large the bags would be.

“Does plastic decompose?”

The agent shook his head.

“Can I not get dirt that isn’t in a plastic bag?”

The agent shrugged his shoulders. Steve held up a hand, and said, “Thanks. We’ll figure it out.”

They were left alone and Sylvie sighed.

“Dirt comes in fucking plastic, now? Everything comes in fucking plastic.”

“I saw a flower shop or something a few blocks away, maybe they can help us out.”

-X-X-X-

Raul Adesso had some strange customers, there was no doubt about that. He was a florist, after all, in New York City, of all places; which meant that he often dealt with customers who thought they knew everything about plants, and flowers, and how to keep them. He’d had customers who thought he charged too much, and some who thought his arrangements were god awful. On the other hand, he had customers who appreciated his work, and thought he charged accordingly. He’d had tough clients, overly demanding Manhattan princesses, and bride-zillas.

No other customer had ever fascinated, amused, and bemused Raul they way _she_ had. He’d been trimming the ends of a batch of tulips that he’d just brought in from the greenhouse when the bell over the front door rang. He came out, wiping his hands on his apron. Raul never knew what to expect when someone walked in. Would it be a bride looking for the most expensive flowers possible, just to impress people with the luxuriousness? Would it be a love struck teen or young man looking for roses? Or it could have been a sad occasion, someone looking for flowers for a funeral.

Raul had not been expecting this delicate, little woman in ill-fitting, light-coloured, cotton clothing who seemed to glide rather than walk. He watched her from the back room as she seemed to greet the displays, lightly stroking their petals or stems, and Raul thought for sure he saw the plants leaning in to her. When he glanced around the room he thought he’d never seen his flowers look so vibrant, so healthy, or so alive.

There was nothing Raul loved more than a beautiful woman surrounded by beautiful flowers; and this woman was the most heavenly creature he had ever set eyes on. He knew he would do anything for her if she asked, could picture himself kneeling at her feet, worshipping the ground she walked on. He wanted to take her to Holland and lay her down in the famous tulip fields and have his way with her, or to the lavender fields of Southern France.

“Can I help you?” he finally forced words from his mouth.

The woman spun around to look at him and smiled brightly, the most honest and open smile Raul had ever seen in this city. Her eyes searched him, really looked at him, and he had the distinct feeling that she knew everything he’d been thinking about her.

“I need dirt,” she smiled sheepishly.

Raul shook his head, grinning apologetically, “I’m sorry, I don’t sell bags of dirt. You’d be better with a garden store, or hardware store.”

“Are those things nearby?”

He chuckled, “Not in this part of town.”

Her bottom lip jutted out, “Dang.”

He couldn’t help himself, Raul couldn’t let her leave without helping her. He spoke again, “Let’s try this again. What exactly do you need, and I’ll see if I can help you.”

The woman smiled appreciatively, “Thank you. I am in desperate need of plants to put in my home. Potted plants. Lots of them.”

“How many are we talking? I do have a greenhouse, I can see what I can do.”

She put a finger to her lips for a second in contemplation, “Probably 50, at least.”

Raul choked on the saliva that had been growing in the back of his throat, “’Scuse me?”

The woman whirled around to look at the man behind her, a man that Raul only now noticed. He wanted to ask the man who he was, how he knew this woman, and how he had become blessed with her presence. He wanted to be in that same position.

“Do you think that’s enough, Steve?” she asked, “Or should I get more?”

Steve smirked indulgently, “I’m not the one footing the bill. Get whatever you want. I’m sure Fury’ll _love_ to pay it.”

She smirked and gave the man, Steve, a gentle push, “You’re so bad.”

Raul needed the woman’s attention back on him.

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh!” she smiled, clapping her hands together, “Thank you so much.”

“I’m Raul, by the way,” he held his hand out, waiting to find out whether she would award him with her touch.

“Nice to meet you Raul, I’m Sylvie.”

When she placed her hand in his Raul thought he may have died and gone to heaven.


End file.
